


Was It You or Was It I

by rosesinmadrid



Category: Football RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-02-09 06:37:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 6,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12882243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesinmadrid/pseuds/rosesinmadrid
Summary: The smallest of glimpses into Sergio's and Fernando's way around each other.Somewhere between 100-200 words per daily update.





	1. First Meeting

It had been long since their feet were in the same country, let alone in the midst of the same crowded hallway. Just a stretch of the arm and they could be touching. Just a few shuffles of the cleats and they could be brushing shoulders. Just a few of anything, but Sergio stays put. He doesn’t dare move from his place. He’s motionless, more than any given game would have him.

And it’s like meeting Fernando for the first time all over again. Sweaty palms and an uncertainty in the placement of his limbs. Wanting to wrap his arms around Fernando’s shoulders for reasons that shouldn’t make sense, but do, or at least he wants them to.


	2. Realizing They Like Each Other

Sergio realized almost instantly. A feeling that always pooled in his stomach and tingled in his chest when a certain freckled blond was around or crossed his mind. 

Fernando on the other hand, his clocks in England needed their batteries replaced once, twice, - “Sergio, I know you just got off of a plane, but can you pick up some double A batteries on your way in, my clock stopped?” - a couple more times and he still needed to watch the leaves change colours. 

The symptoms didn’t spare him though, the same feelings gnawed at his insides. His stomach knotted and his chest felt tighter around the rowdy southern, but he didn’t put any trust in those cues. Thought they could be phantom. Blamed them on nerves or stresses of the game, the pressure to score more goals. Lots of people had pretty brown hair, and pretty brown eyes, and kissable mouths. He could find that anywhere, especially while he waited for the leaves to grow back.


	3. Taking Selfies Together

Fernando still has his eyes closed when he feels the tickle of Sergio’s voice whispering against his neck, asking for a kiss. With a quiet laugh and a sleepy turn of the head, a lingering peck is placed on the corner of Sergio’s mouth. 

Fernando’s eyes roll when he hears a faint shutter noise above them. Sergio is left pouting when a hand swats the sound away and tries to steal his phone. The frown disappears from his lips just as quickly when the same hand finds its way under the soft sheets and curl around the back of his knee, pulling their sleep warm bodies closer. 

“Kiss me again?” Sergio breaths. 

“No pictures this time.”


	4. Making Up After a Disagreement

It starts in the car, side by side, bickering away while the radio is aggressively changed for emphasis, it’s stations and volumes a constant buzz and static in the background. It escalates at red lights, their ego’s getting light bruises from petty insults thrown over the gear shift and sarcastic remarks slid across the dash. It diffuses a fraction, only enough for Sergio to release taut knuckles and slip them around the wheel at turns, but the tension is still thick. 

After a longer stretch of asphalt, Sergio can’t keep up the angry demeanour and has to let his arms fall from atop the steering wheel. He sees the opportunity to take another angle on his side of the argument at a quiet stop sign without any traffic he has to worry about. 

“Come on Fernando, you can’t even fuck to that kind of music.”

Sergio is looking around conspicuously for cars that are obviously not there, when he catches a glimpse of a reaction he didn’t think he’d get out of the person in his passenger seat. 

Fernando spares the snarky comments he has beneath his tongue about flamenco music in counter, snorts instead, “Yes you can.”

Sergio stops searching for traffic when he finds Fernando’s reaction doesn’t change. He can only blink when Fernando cocks a brow over blown eyes. 

Sergio takes one last look for cars before rising to the challenge, “Your place or mine?”

“Which ever is faster.”

“Pulling over would be faster.”


	5. Sitting Together On a Flight

“Entertain me.”

Fernando loses his place in the book resting on his lap when he’s startled by Sergio’s voice beside him. He huffs, trying to scan the page for the last word he read. 

“Read a book, play with your phone, count sheep.” 

A few minutes pass before Sergio rustles enough in his seat to make Fernando skip a line of writing.

“I have a better idea.”

Fernando closes his book as he curses a grinning Sergio. He finally looks up to question his source of constant interruption, only to be met with an empty seat. Fernando perches in his chair momentarily, realizing all the sleeping faces of his teammates before making his way down the narrow aisle.


	6. Getting Flustered Around Each Other

In the confines of a hotel bathroom, trapped between the sink and Fernando’s nightly routine, Sergio can’t seem to find an excuse to look anywhere but the beads of water magnifying the freckles scattered down Fernando’s back. He tries to follow a particular trail of water that catches his attention through the mirror, when he gets caught by the tall blond suddenly turning around. 

He lowers his head, settles for brushing his teeth a second time to distract himself as the blood rises to his cheeks. Fernando finally decides to drape a towel around himself, but it doesn’t make it past Sergio that it’s much to low on his hips to be functional. He averts his eyes, tries to focus on his knuckles grappling at the sink. 

He expects Fernando to be further when he hears him ask for the toothpaste, instead his hand smashes with a firm chest, smearing the open tube across bare skin. Sergio still has his toothbrush hanging from his mouth as he curses and frantically tries to wipe the minty paste off of Fernando, only to make a bigger mess across his chest. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just jump in the shower again.”

Again. No. Not fine.


	7. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the Round of 16, second leg Champions League game, Liverpool 4-0 Real Madrid, 2009.

Sergio starts to regret agreeing to meet with Fernando after the game when he sees him smile at the bartender and he has to curb the pang of jealousy that wants to curl around his ribs. 

In the middle of mindless small talk, a perpetual routine, a sort of foreplay, Sergio suddenly grows tired of it and has to speak off script.

“If you hate the rain so much, maybe you shouldn’t have moved to England.”

“What?”

Sergio only mumbles under his breath as he begins to stand, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Neither can I.” 

It’s Sergio’s turn to question Fernando then. 

“Can we take this back to my place?”

Sergio is always trying to learn how to say no to the new Liverpool star, but never can quite get it past his lips. He opens his mouth to test his luck, but Fernando is begging, something Sergio’s never seen before. 

***

Fernando wonders why he didn’t let the feelings accompany the actions sooner, because despite the mess they always make under the sheets, there’s nothing better than having Sergio moan into his mouth and smile against his lips.


	8. Dealing With Being in Different Cities/Countries from Each Other

Fernando deals with it by scoring goals, wants to make Sergio proud if he happens to be flipping through premier league games at home, wants to keep him interested. Hopes it’ll substitute for all the I love you’s he’s afraid to say, all the I love you’s he should have let slip out a long time ago. 

Because lately, —

Sergio deals with it by staying in more, his interest in the world past the walls of his home less rose coloured. The lights that keep it bright only casting long shadows. He leaves his laptop sleeping for days, misses flights that Fernando doesn’t even know about, that he had booked with three different calendars next to him. The flights that he does know about, the one’s Fernando are expecting him to miss the trip back, he gets on them without an excuse. 

Because lately, —

When they are in the same city, the mess doesn’t come as easy, —in between the sheets, against the wall, under the spray of the shower— with a few words that have crawled up Sergios throat. Words that he thought were buried because they didn’t follow the routine they’d built. But not even Fernando throbbing in his mouth can thrust back down the idea of letting those words eventually drip. He just swallows for the time being.


	9. Having Breakfast Together

He could barely handle seeing Fernando wearing his jersey the night before in the obnoxious hues the tv offered, let alone in the warm glow of a sunrise. Fernando is barely dressed, his hair still untouched by a comb, and Sergio can see stray freckles that he wants nothing more than to remind Fernando of their whereabouts with an innocent stroke of a thumb or a soft closed kiss. 

He reaches out to trace the large number four on Fernando’s back before he can remember it’s morning now, and his hands are to be at his sides outside of bedroom activities. 

Fernando startles, turning on the stool he’s sat in and before he can tell those hands it’s okay to trace the letters too, Sergio is already rounding the small kitchen island and reciting some comic relief with a lopsided grin. 

“Don’t spill coffee on that, it won’t come out.”

Sergio reaches in the cabinet that have the mugs. 

“You didn’t like seeing it on the floor?”

Fernando can’t decide before Sergio turns around if he should play along or not and takes a moment to respond. 

“I’ll take it off if you don’t stop bothering me,” he watches Sergio carefully, hopes his words might settle him, like a bargaining chip, before realizing the other answer he could receive. 

“You think I’m going to bother you less if you take your clothes off?”

Sergio thinks he’s in the clear now, they’re bickering, the edge is taken off, like it always is after they give Fernando a specific reason to throw his bedsheets in the laundry. Except Fernando doesn’t rise to the challenge like he always does. Instead he asks him to stay the weekend and Sergio finds himself nodding for the second time in Fernando’s presence when he knows he should be in Madrid already.


	10. Giving Each Other Nicknames

Sergio comes down the stairs running his hands over every pocket on his outfit and looking at every surface in his house.

“You lost your phone didn’t you?” Fernando huffs, “I’m already calling it.”

The ringtone comes from behind Fernando, it’s muffled, inside a jacket laying on the couch. “You couldn’t have just put Fernando, or Fer, as my caller ID? You had to bring my ass into it?”

Sergio plucks his phone from Fernando’s hand, “You have a nice ass, what can I say?”

“Change it.”

Sergio pouts, but Fernando is having none of it. He watches as Fernando crosses his arms, raises a brow, purses his lips on a locked jaw, and he knows he has to change it.

He starts to slurs a string of suggestions, — muffin, sweetheart, baby cakes, sugar, goldilocks, darling, buttercup, freckles, — but Fernando doesn’t look anymore pleased.

“El Niño?”

Another sour look.

Fernando snatches the phone from Sergio, quickly typing before handing it back to him.

When he looks down, a smile breaks across his face.

_Fernando Torres_ , accompanied by the best use of a peach emoji he’s ever seen.

“Let’s go, or we’re going to be late.”

Sergio bites back a grin and sends Fernando through the door with a light smack to the ass, “Alright, my peach.”


	11. One Making The Other Blush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows chapter six.

Sergio’s hands are still shaking and the thought of seeing Fernando in a towel again is making him lightheaded. He decides to leave a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on the edge of the sink waiting for Fernando in hopes that he won’t have to deal with feelings he can’t do anything about. 

He manages to relax, even keeps his breathing level when he hears the washroom door turn. It’s until he feels a few drops of water hit his forehead that he opens his eyes. Fernando is leaning over him, long strands of wet hair falling around his face. Sergio can only stare for a moment before he contorts his expression into confusion at the grin above him. 

“That’s not mine.”

Sergio is left with a bright blush that rushes all the way up to the shell of his ears as Fernando drops a shirt on his chest. 


	12. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I apparently like to to follow these prompts very loosely, this continues directly from chapter seven.

They could’ve kissed a thousand times, Fernando wasn’t sure, he had lost count, —over hips, across shoulders, under jaws, inside thighs, up necks — but never mouth to mouth. It was an unspoken rule, a line they somehow never crossed. 

Sergio hovered once, eyelashes tickling the splatter of freckles beneath him, sheets crumpled halfway off the bed, thighs boxing in Fernando’s hips against the mattress. 

Fernando hovered once, a thumb stroking over a small scar under Sergio’s eye, a hand massaging a bruise over his ribs, eyes tracing the outline of his lips. 

They didn’t really hold hands either, unless it was for leverage. Lots of thin lines, invisible until Sergio wants to tell Fernando how beautiful he is and remembers they don’t use words like that. Until Fernando wants to rub the sting out of the scars from Sergio’s matches and remembers they’re only there to make more. Until they want to reach out and nestle chest to back, but one of them is already turned around looking for their jeans. 

He only breaks away from Sergio when he realizes that he wants all that to change. 

“I want to take you on a date, a proper date.” Fernando is looking at his feet, whispering so he can take it back incase Sergio doesn’t agree, “No sex.”

He hasn’t seen Sergio’s smile or laugh chase so genuinely, immediately after something that came from his mouth in so long. 

“Exactly, you have to take me to dinner first.” Sergio says already along with the idea.


	13. Borrowing Each Others Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place before chapter nine.

He almost trips over the dip in the hardwood that he refuses to memorize the location of because Fernando promised this apartment was only temporary. He’s about to curse, but remembers he’s not supposed to care if Fernando is looking for a different place, or that he’s long unpacked his belongings into the old drawers, or that he’s hung photos of family and friends. 

So he laughs instead, “I never do remember that dent in the-” but his voice catches in his throat as he curls around the couch at the sight of Fernando wearing a jersey that he didn’t know he was missing. 

“I’m surprised you’re not up in flames.”

Fernando’s face flex’s with confusion. 

Sergio gestures with his nose, softly, delicately, barely a nod, afraid if he uses his hands he’ll discover the view in front of him is just a figment of his imagination. 

“You don’t play for that team.”

He watches Fernando bow his head and slip the emblem between his fingers, as a soft laugh escapes his mouth, “But you do.”

The words ring in Sergio’s ears for the rest of the evening until Fernando asks him to stay the night. He finds himself nodding even though he knows he should’ve already been on a plane. 


	14. One Looking After The Other While They Are Sick

“You’ve been throwing up for hours, unlock the door, cariño. I just want to check if you’re okay.”

Fernando finally hears the quiet click that lets him turn the knob he’s been standing outside of since Sergio locked himself in. He peaks through the door carefully, finding Sergio hunched on the edge of the bathtub. 

Without notice, Sergio is on the ground, clutching his stomach, chest heaving against porcelain. He tries to tuck as much hair as he can behind his ear as he wrenches. The smaller strands that stubbornly fall and stick back to his forehead, Fernando gently holds back as he rubs small circles into his scalp. 

When Sergio leans back again, Fernando places a a damp cloth across his forehead and drops a small kiss to his temple. Sergio tries to shoo him away, but he can barley lift his hands. 

Fernando sinks to floor, back against the bathtub, fingers curling around Sergio’s wrist, “Come here.”

Sergio groans, tugging back weakly, “I’ll get you sick.”

Fernando only smiles softly, pulling Sergio towards him, “No you won’t, come here.”


	15. Celebrating Something

  
“Did you get the cups?”

“Yes.”

“The table cloths?”

“ _Yes_.”

“How about-”

Sergio releases both handfuls of bags across the counter in response.

With a firm hand just above Fernando’s ass as he shuffles behind him, he steals a quick kiss. “I even picked up the cake.”

Fernando grins warmly, watching Sergio unpack the bags. His shoulders fall as his focus follows Sergio around the kitchen, at the concentration casting his face and how he’s humming to himself. It’s only until he’s asked to open a package of pink paper plates that his eyes go wide and his body tenses.

“Elsa’s favourite colour is blue.”

Sergio doesn’t stop moving, “She’s been all about pink for weeks now.”

Fernando doesn’t look convinced.

In an instant Sergio’s mouth is behind his ear, “I swear, pink crayons, pink drawings, pink hair ties, pink clothes. She points out anything that’s pink.”

Unimpressed by the evidence, he snorts, “Maybe she thinks the colour brings out your eyes.”

One of Sergio’s hands uncurl from Fernando’s hips to display faint pink scribbles, “She even filled in the rose.”

As if on cue, Elsa waddles her way into the kitchen, Fernando immediately crouching to confirm their little girls favourite colour, already prepared to give Sergio a scolding.

_Purple. Like the flowers, daddy._

Sergio already has his keys in hand before Fernando can scoop up Elsa.

“Sergio, wait!”

“I’m getting all the colours Nando, all the colours.”


	16. Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows chapter three.

The fluffy sheets and the sleepy nipping at his jaw are tempting Fernando to turn over and close his eyes again when he knows he should already be getting dressed. He groans when he feels the nipping mouth migrate to the base of his neck and close more insistently over his collarbone. 

“The team is never going to stop teasing us if we’re always late to breakfast,” but his hand is already threading through Sergio’s hair encouraging him to continue. “We have to get up.”

“Let them,” Sergio hums against Fernando’s shoulder. “Fifteen more minutes.”

Fernando tucks Sergio further into his side, letting his hand fall and trace patterns down his back, “Five more minutes.”

A grin shapes Sergio’s mouth in amusement as Fernando’s fingers find their way back to the crown of his head, “Ten.”

“Five, and I’ll let you shower with me.”

Sergio turns Fernando’s head with a finger under his chin, watching as a smile curls the corners of his lips, “It’s a deal.”


	17. One Watches The Other Sleeping

Sergio is already wiping himself off in the bathroom and plucking his jeans off the bedroom floor when he finds out his flight is canceled until who knows what time the next day thanks to a bad storm.

“So stay the night.” Fernando says it in the dark, to a Sergio that didn’t know he was listening to him swear under his breath and workout his thoughts out loud. “You haven’t found your shirt yet anyways.”

Sergio has to agree, he doesn’t know his way around the English city enough to stay anywhere else. He only hopes Fernando can’t hear the lump he swallows as he reaches for the door. Something like a naughty pet, a poorly trained dog that’s overly excited all the time, fun to play with, but isn’t allowed to sleep on the bed.

“Not on the couch,” Fernando watches from the bed as Sergio’s outline halts. “You’ll wake up with a broken back.“

Sergio wants to say something until the idea that Fernando might actually care about an ounce of his well-being outside the bedroom entertains the insides of his head. All he can do is carefully lift the blankets as Fernando makes room on the mattress for him.

When Fernando turns around and Sergio loses count of the freckles lining his shoulders, a sad confusion blurs Sergio’s mind. The filter usually filled with words of endearment he can’t say and questions he knows he probably doesn’t want the answer too, empty.

“I thought-” _the rule was we only share a bed to fuck._

Fernando pulls the covers over his shoulder that he knows Sergio is trying to memorize, that he wishes he would just tuck into because he’s too afraid to ask Sergio himself. He’s not sure anymore how things got this way, but he’s getting phenomenally good at buying himself more time to try to fix it.  “We’ll talk in the morning.”


	18. Getting Very Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again in these challenges, the word limit is just a mere suggestion at this point.

  
Even behind the drunken haze, Sergio knows he shouldn’t be calling, already knows nothing good can come from it. He almost hangs up before the one, two, three, four too many drinks tell him the phone call can’t make things any worse. It’s all the encouragement he needs, his standards are pretty low.

“You busy, superstar?” Sergio would love to say it in a way that doesn’t sound condescending one day, be able to sit down Fernando and explain exactly how mind numbingly amazing he is on and off the pitch. How utterly impressed he is every time he scores a goal, how he’s at a loss for words every time he smiles, but instead takes the small victory when he doesn’t get a response from him, and he knows his skin is crawling because there’s nothing more Fernando hates than being patronized.

“Where are you?” Fernando figures he deserves Sergio’s increasingly sarcastic quips. It’s doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it’s three in the morning and he can’t sleep, and Sergio’s voice, sour or not, brings him an odd peace from it’s familiarity.

Sergio grins at his hand, “Guess you’re free, then.”

“Are you not at home?” Fernando sits on one of the shaky bar stools in his kitchen. He can feel it in Sergio’s quick wit retort, more is coming. The words are tight and stale, something is going to break, a band is going to split somewhere. “In Madrid?”

“Am I wasting your time if I’m not in England?” Sergio bites his lips as not to burst, into tears or laughter, he’s not sure which he’s closer too at this point, “Phone sex not do it for you, superstar?” It’s when he laughs at a street sign that Fernando recognizes the gargled pitch his voice comes out in. “Of course I’m in England, sweetheart, where the fuck else.”

_Oh god._ “You’re drunk.” _Fuck, are you okay? Let me come get you?_

Sergio lets go of the effort he’s making to sound remotely sober, his voice brimming on obnoxiously loud and even more obnoxiously honest, “Not nearly enough, Nando.”

Fernando throws a sweater over his head and grabs his keys off the hook next to the door, “Where are you?”

“Why? So you can pick me up?” Sergio sinks down on a curb, spitting between his shoes. He can’t help but laugh at the panic in Fernando’s voice. “Don’t bother.”

Fernando doesn’t know how to make his voice softer, he’s not sure it’d make a difference anyway, but he makes sure he slams the car door hard enough to be heard on the line and just listens. _Please just tell me where you are?_

“I don’t know, I don’t know where the fuck I am, Fernando.” Sergio drawls out slowly. Even drunk, he feels embarrassed, “I don’t know anything about this dumb city other than you never leave it and it’s where I have to be if I want to see you.” He looks around himself, nothing familiar and nothing standing out, “I started at that bar you like so much.”

The thought that he’s conditioned Sergio so much he has to get drunk to even think of saying things like this, curdles Fernando’s insides. 


	19. Dancing Together

They trip over their feet the whole way back to their room, attached at the hip, arms slung around their shoulders, humming silly jokes into the other’s ear, smiling into each other’s personal space. Their teammates basically push them through the door. 

Sergio keeps his hand wrapped around Fernando’s wrist as they tumble further into the room and fall onto one of the beds. They’re both warm and giggly, still beaming about another game won, another game closer to being champions together. 

Fernando is playing with Sergio’s hair, absentmindedly, grinning from ear to ear. 

Sergio takes the hand in his hair into his palm, “Dance with me?”

“There isn’t even any music playing, silly,” Fernando smiles down at the suggestion. 

Sergio shifts under Fernando’s weight forcing them to stand with a hand on his waist. “I can sing,” he laughs, twirling Fernando before pulling him in flush. 

“I don’t know about that,” Fernando chuckles, but he’s already resting his head on Sergio’s shoulder, both of them slowly swaying as Sergio hums.


	20. Training Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows soon after chapter eleven.

Sergio starts to think Fernando knows what he’s doing when he asks him to help him stretch. 

Fernando’s brows are knit together, but it doesn’t downplay the grin eating away at his expression as he looks up at Sergio, “More.”

“Well aren’t you bendy,” Sergio snorts, making sure to coat the words with a snappy chirp instead of curious amusement as he pushes a firmer hand behind Fernando’s knee. 

“Maybe,” Fernando shrugs, his expression unchanging, grin still plastered thickly to his lips. 

Sergio’s demeanour may be calm, but he’s squirming beneath his skin, fighting not to redden in the face.


	21. Being Domestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s tagged, but this prompt is deceiving. So here is your extra complimentary warning: angst is ahead. 
> 
> Follows chapter seventeen. 
> 
> It may also be worth mentioning this drabble is more than double my “word limit.”

  
Sergio wakes up in a bed he never thought he would. At first, he thinks he’s dreaming. He looks around with a cautious strain until he remembers the circumstances, and nothing actually matches up with what he dreams about.

When he stands, it feels like having something between a hangover and a fever. The feeling doesn’t leave him, but is momentarily beside him when he registers what he thinks is the smell of eggs and bacon. The feeling quickly settles back in, jarring his frame, seeping into his bones. _Does Fernando have someone over? Is it someone he’s trying to impress? Maybe a teammate? Is it the girl he always mentions that likes the same bar as much as he does? Is it okay to walk out there?_ He could come up with an excuse for anything nowadays if it wasn’t. Sergio’s grown accustomed to the fact that he’s just supposed to know these things, whether Fernando says anything or not, something like a mind reader. And he’s long used to ever changing plans.

He puts on the shirt he couldn’t find the night before, smoothing it out over his shoulders and down his chest, checking the mirror to make sure the collar is straight, very thankful it’s a button up. He could be on a business trip or talking transfer fees with clubs. There’s lots of things a button up could be doing that aren’t trying to impress Fernando or hanging off the back of chair in the corner of a dimly lit room.

Much to his surprise, there’s only a half dressed Fernando and a plate of breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen. Sergio looks awkwardly at the food.

“Do you want orange or apple juice with that?” Fernando asks with one hand on the fridge.

Sergio stares blankly, trying to read any micro expressions Fernando might make, trying not to make any himself. Apparently he does though, because he’s offered another choice of beverage.

Sergio watches Fernando gesture to the counter like he’s on some sort of cooking show, “Maybe some coffee?”

“Orange juice,” Sergio doesn’t feel like talking about if he puts milk or creamer in his coffee.

“Here you go.” Fernando offers a small smile.

Sergio lets Fernando’s arm hang in the air a moment before taking the cup, “Thanks.”

He thinks, he could say something, maybe, but half the reason he doesn’t is because he agreed to have things this way. He agreed not to cross the line Fernando set down what feels like centuries in the past. He agreed that there are two sides of the line, blurry or not, and that he only gets to stay on one of them.

When they finish breakfast, and Sergio realizes he knows where all the dishes belong that they just cleaned shoulder to shoulder, he thinks a little more. Remembers nodding his head on a night he wishes he could take back, even pairing it with an affirmative hum and a, _‘Yeah, sure. Of course, we can keep this casual.’_ He agreed to Fernando setting the tempo, he can’t complain now about being off beat, about being in a relationship that actions do not speak louder than words. Where sex doesn’t mean love, but he wants it to. Where, _‘stay the night,’_ doesn’t necessarily mean stay one more night. He takes what he gets, and doesn’t push Fernando for more.

“What are you thinking about?”

“What time my flight is going to be rescheduled.”


	22. Making A Bet Over Something

They’re at an old playing field, one from Fernando’s childhood that’s managed not to get paved over by the growing city and is tucked away, mostly forgotten by anyone else. Where the grass isn’t overgrown with tall weeds, it’s mostly dried and rundown, only the occasional green patch. It’s all they need anyways, looking for a little break from their usual big fancy stadiums. 

“I bet you can’t get a ball past me.”

“I have before,” Fernando grins, recalling memories old and recent. “Definitely still can, definitely will in the future.” 

Sergio snorts, “Don’t get too cocky.”

“What are you even going on about?” Fernando can’t help but smirk as he begins to juggle the ball and catches Sergio rolling his eyes. 

Sergio steps in between rusting paint chipped posts, gesturing around himself, “I meant in goal, I bet you can’t score a goal on me.”

“What happens if I can?”

A devious smile plays on Sergio’s mouth, “You can score with me later, too.”

Fernando laughs, shaking his head, nothing but endeared with Sergio’s cheeky-as-always antics, “That’s hardly fair, you can’t enjoy the outcome of losing, when this ball makes it past you. You’ll miss on purpose. ”

“I’m sure you can think of ways to make me suffer, Fernando, I have nothing but faith in you.”

“Alright, and if you win?”

“I’ll score with you later.”


	23. Going On A Long Walk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows chapter 22.

“I told you I could get a ball past you,” Fernando feels like his face might get stuck in a permanent grin. He’s been biting back outright barks of laughter since Sergio challenged him on the small field. 

Sergio pushes away the tattooed arm that tries to wrap around his waist, “Okay, but you didn’t have to do it eight times.”

“It was nine,” that earns Fernando another sour pout and he can’t help but let out a small laugh this time. “Besides, you still stopped more shots than I scored anyways.”

Sergio doesn’t know where he’s going, it’s Fernando’s childhood he’s walking through, a tree line forest that edges the old playing field, somewhere Fernando would spend a lot of his time as a kid, stirring trouble among a game of tag or hide-and-seek with his friends. Nonetheless, his pattered shuffles turn into lengthy strides running away from the gloating striker. 

“Don’t be like that, don’t sulk, come back,” He watches Sergio stop in his tracks, hesitating as he bounces on his feet. Fernando has an awful smile he just can’t seem to wipe of his face. “You’re going to miss the clearing.” Sergio turns around with crossed arms and a sarcastic expression. Fernando almost mirrors him, but the corners of his mouth refuse to stop curling. “Few yards ahead, over a fallen tree, and past the cut tree trunks...or you could wait for me and we could actually walk together?”

Sergio huffs as he meets Fernando half way of the distance he created. 

Fernando finally lets the grin fall from his face when Sergio is less than a foot away, but is only interested in his shoes. “Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just me, you don’t need to feel bad, you’re still my champion...and I’m hoping that means something to you.”


	24. Watching the Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows chapter 23.

The clearing is just like the playing field. Nothing fancy or shiny about it, nothing loud or demanding, just a little nook hidden away from a bustling world and maybe just a little insignificant to the average person. But when they reach it, it’s the perfect place to keep laughing, to keep their hands intertwined, to be obnoxiously wholeheartedly themselves. Where Fernando can fit his hand into the small of Sergio’s back and pull it towards him. Where Sergio can dig his nose into Fernando’s neck and leave a kiss behind. It’s just what they need, quite only for them to fill with noise. An unbothered gap separating them from hectic responsibilities, a space more than enough for the both of them. 

They sink next to each other on what’s left of an old stone wall, their feet dangling, occasionally knocking into another. For a moment they just stare, a scape of houses and scattered fields in different shades of green in front of the them. The city close enough to see, but far enough not to hear, beautifully muted like an oil painting or photograph. 

When the blue begins to fade, and warmer hues peak from behind the clouds, Fernando speaks up, “You have to show me your favourite sunset next.”

“It’s not in walking distance, I’ll tell you that much.”

Fernando squeezes Sergio’s hand he was tracing circles into moments ago, “We can drive to Seville one day soon.”

“We can’t drive there either, I mean, not all the way.”

Fernando gives Sergio a confused look, his eyes wide in disbelief, another squeeze of the hand, urging him to continue speaking. 

“It’s not in Seville.”

“The best sunset you’ve seen so far, your favourite one, isn’t in Seville?” Fernando looks around as if he’ll find another sunset behind a leaf, only to glance back even more perplexed. He fixes some strands of hair on the crown of Sergio’s head that the wind has blown out of place throughout the evening. Moves others that have fallen into his eyes, questioning the look he finds their. 

“England.”

Fernando’s hand falls from Sergio’s smiling profile, only to feel it be quickly taken back into his palm, “England?”

“Yeah, a spot something like this, just outside Liverpool.”

“Outside Liverpool?” Fernando watches as Sergio bites at his lip, letting him flip the hand he stole, between his own. 

“I might’ve took some detours and got lost back in the day.”

He smiles for that, grabbing Sergio’s hand into his lap, “But England? Really? England is where your favourite sunset is?”

“Yeah, I mean, it might always be grey in England, or at least every time I’d show up, but the sky still has to change colour for the sun to set,” Sergio explains softly. “And a pretty sky was rare, so the sunsets were always really stunning to me.”


	25. One Being Protective Of The Other

When it comes to dealing with each other’s injuries or when one is ill, Sergio might be stubborn but Fernando can be ruthlessly obstinate. 

“Are you really going to sit there the whole time while I shower?”

“Yes,” Fernando makes himself more comfortable on the counter. “Because you never follow doctors orders.”

Sergio huffs, throwing his weight to one hip, “I can take care of myself.”

“Barely,” Fernando leans back against the mirror. “Clothes off, lukewarm water, come on.”

Sergio manages to get his shirt off before feeling a sudden silliness clam his hands to unbutton his pants, almost not recognizing the feeling, it not occurring in years. He groans, filling the space between Fernando’s knees, “Help me.”

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” Fernando laughs, kissing Sergio’s flushed face and pushing his pants over his hips. He leans back again, “Into the shower.”

When Fernando notices steam starting to fog the mirror, his hand sprouts into the stream of water, pulling a yelp from Sergio, “The doctor said lukewarm water, that isn’t lukewarm water, you’re going to run up your fever.”


	26. One Knows Where The Other’s Tattoos Are

Fernando tucks himself around a Sergio that’s scrolling aimlessly through his phone. He doesn’t say anything, only wraps an arm around his waist to pull their hips closer and tangles theirs legs together under the sheets. He peaks over Sergio’s shoulder for a moment to make sure he’s not reading rude comments or critic articles, smiling when he finds a video of a cute puppy playing on the screen.

He preoccupies himself with the tattoos that decorate Sergio’s back, his gaze examining the detail in the different areas of shading. Eventually, the pads of his fingers begin to trace the ink lines that create silhouettes and pretty words, stopping only when he catches himself curving over Sergio’s arm, a small patch of bare skin separating the line he was following. 

Sergio laughs under his breath, “You having fun back there?” That earns him a roll of the eyes that he can’t see, but he knows is happening. He shifts closer when he doesn’t feel the hand continue over his arm, “Why’d you stop?”

Fernando returns his attention to the wolf inked across Sergio’s shoulder blade, tapping its nose, “I still remember when this was a goblin.”

They both laugh for that, softly and reminiscing. 

“Or was it an elf...a genie maybe?” Fernando earns himself a feeble waft. “I think I liked it better than the wolf now.”

“Fernando, I swear,” Sergio tries to sound serious. 

“What, it was nice, it had a football and everything.”


	27. Seeing In The New Year

“What if we got our own fireworks?” Sergio asks from the passenger seat. “I can set them up in the backyard! The kids would love it!”

Fernando isn’t sure if he should lower the radio to make sure he’s hearing correctly, or turn it up and pretend he heard nothing. The decision is made for him as the music cuts out automatically when he reverses into their usual parking spot to wait for the end of the school day. 

“You want to set up fireworks?” Fernando let’s out a laugh as he turns the car off. 

“Come on, it’d be fun! It’d be so nice, we can invite the family and we don’t have to worry about traveling with our small army!”

“Sergio, I want to make it through the New Year.” Fernando leaps out of the car when he hears the school bell ring, Sergio next to him in an instant. “You handling...” he gestures, shaking his keys wildly, “explosives, doesn’t make that goal seem very attainable.”


	28. Comforting Each Other After A Lose

They’re sitting in silence, Fernando watching as Sergio’s face flashes between expressions. The more he scrolls and swipes through his phone, the more indecipherable they become. 

“Stop that,” Fernando has to suppress the urge to coddle Sergio. He knows he’ll just get shoved away. Instead, he steals Sergio’s phone and settles his voice into one that’s scolding, “You should know better.” 

Anger pushes at Sergio’s back until he’s off the couch and right behind a Fernando that’s hiding his phone away, “I was reading something.”

“Most of it isn’t true,” Fernando says before turning around to a steaming Sergio. Without batting an eye, “So you’re just wasting your time.”

Sergio deflates then, realizing the anger is silly and Fernando is only trying to help.


	29. Meeting Each Other After Being Separated  For Awhile

He’d love to say that one week easily blurs into two, but by the second day he’s already desperate to see his kids and misses Sergio, dearly. Calling isn’t enough, and he often finds himself fumbling with his phone after they hang up, contemplating to call back, pacing the room aimlessly like it’s going to get him closer to his family. Day four he makes the mistake of picking up his phone one too many times after hanging up, and ends up calling back only minutes later needing to hear just a little more about school projects and playground crushes and Sergio’s questionable cooking before they absolutely have to be tucked into bed. 

By the time he gets home, it’s Sergio’s turn to leave for another few days, so when their schedules finally detangle and align for more than twenty four hours, Fernando is the first to handout bundled kisses and huddle everyone into a much needed, very overdue hug, the suggestion of a family day in together, parting his lips.


	30. Saying “I Love You” For The First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In sequence with chapter twelve.

He’s thought about saying it more times than he can count. It always stuck to the roof of his mouth or tickling the back of his throat, anywhere it could find a place to hide behind the mixture of fear and guilt. Even with the consuming urge, the very first time, it’s an accident. Annoyingly effortless after so long trying to bury it under rumpled sheets that’d be cold in the morning. It breaks through his discipline and better judgement to hold on just a little longer because he knows the timing is sheepish. 

They’re eating cereal in his kitchen, silently relishing in the peaceful world that’s been asleep for hours. He’s sitting on a stool and Sergio on the counter. In the quiet, conversation that saw the sun go down and the moon come out plays back in his head and a warm laugh spills into his bowl. 

“I love you,” he startles himself, his ears rushing pink. 

He’s too afraid to look up at the counter, only watching from the corner of his eye that Sergio’s head has shot up and his grip is more than enough to support a bowl of cereal. 

He can’t take it back, not that he really wants to and it’s out there already. So he nods to himself, endeared once again, a joke Sergio said at dinner intruding the front of his memory. 

He grins at it for the second time, recalling Sergio’s face cracking into laughter before he could reach the punchline. 

Fernando wants to say it more to himself, but he knows Sergio can hear him speak. And he’s not sure if it makes it better or worse, but he can’t stop it from slipping out, “I really really love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally done! This challenge took much longer than anticipated, but ultimately I got out of it what I wanted, more ideas and more writing. I hope it was an enjoyable read! I want to say thank you for all the kudos and all the lovely comments!!!


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